Episode 14 Mark of the turtle
by KayDee35
Summary: TV episode with added scenes


**Mark of the turtle**

Dedicated to Henry Darrow and Cameron Mitchell,

the two wonderful actors

who made Manolito Montoya and Buck Cannon

come to life.

It was Monday. Big John had sent his brother into town along with some ranch hands to buy the goods they had not been able to carry away on Friday on their regular shopping trip. Joe, Pedro and Reno were heaving the sacks onto the buckboard when they saw a lone figure ride into town. The man led a second horse with a man-shaped bag thrown over the saddle. He stopped beside their wagon. "You got an undertaker in town?"

"One down the street," Joe replied, nodding his head in the general direction.

"Thank you," the man nodded to him and rode on.

The three ranch hands thoughtfully looked after him. "Doesn't seem to be a farmer," Joe muttered.

"Not likely," Pedro told him. "You know, Joe, that is no sack of oats he has brought in."

Buck came out of the store. "Come on, boys, let's get this wagon on the road." Since he himself had no pockets on his shirt, he unceremoniously slipped the change into Joe's breast pocket. "What's happened? What're you looking at?" he wanted to know when none of the hands stirred.

"Fellow rode into town," Joe said, pointing down the street.

"I see him. So?"

"With a dead man."

"A dead man?" Buck looked incredulously at him. The others nodded agreement.

"It's not our business," Buck decided after a moment's hesitation. "Our business is to get this grain back. Come on, boys, load up."

While the men disappeared into the store, it was now Buck's turn to watch the stranger, who was talking to the undertaker. A moment later the man tied his horse at the hitching rack and came straight at Buck.

"Morning," the man greeted him. "My name is Packer. Virgil Packer. I'm territorial marshal."

"Morning," Buck answered. Being of a suspicious nature, he pulled back the stranger's vest to look at the badge. It seemed to be genuine. "Buck Cannon is my name. Joe, Pedro, Reno - ranch hands from High Chaparral," he introduced his companions who had just come back from the store and handed him the remaining bags of grain.

"I need a posse," the marshal said without further delay. "Do any of you mind to volunteer?"

Buck paused. He looked at the marshal with very little enthusiasm. "Mind telling me what this posse is for?" he demanded.

"Did you ever hear the name El Lobo?" Packer asked.

"Sí." Pedro nodded. "Este hombre es muy malo."

"Bandido," Buck agreed. "Yeah, we heard."

"He has raided again. Beecher's Fork. He killed, burned," the marshal explained. "I need some men who can trail and who can fight, to go after him."

"Go after him where?" Buck asked.

"South. I know where I can pick up his trail," Packer answered confidently.

"South, to Mexico?" Buck continued his interrogation.

Packer shrugged. "If I have to."

Buck nodded firmly. "You have to, Mr. Marshal, if I know El Lobo. And the answer is no."

"Why?" Packer asked in puzzlement.

"Ain't got time to explain. But no High Chaparral man is going into Mexico." Buck turned his back on the lawman. "Pedro, get that team ready. Reno, come on, boys. Let's hit that trail."

The High Chaparral crew immediately got busy. They ignored the marshal and simply rode away.

Buck cursed under his breath. He knew Packer would not give up. And he also knew that no one in the whole territory would dare to ride against El Lobo. He was sure he would soon see that lawman again.

The next morning when Buck sat on the look-out, he saw a rider approaching. Buck looked down from his post. Blue stood at the fence. He watched as Joe and Ira saddled the horse Sam wanted to break in. Big John came to them. He took up position next to his son.

"Sam, you're not as young as you used to be. Think you can handle that?" John teased the foreman.

Sam laughed. "If it gets me, it won't be the first time."

"Mr. Cannon," Pedro shouted from the entrance gate just as Buck had opened his mouth to announce the visitor. Everybody stopped and turned towards the gate. Big John waved to Pedro to let the man in.

The marshal reined in his horse in front of John and tipped his hat in greeting. "Mr. Cannon?" he asked.

"That's right," Big John answered, extending his hand. "And you must be Marshal Packer. Welcome to High Chaparral. Why don't you step down and rest a bit?"

"Thank you," Packer nodded, getting off his horse.

"Blue", Big John called to his son.

The young man approached eagerly. "Yeah?"

"Take the marshal's horse," Big John said, then turned back to Packer to make introductions. "Marshal, that's my son Blue." Blue shook hands with the lawman, then led the horse to the stable.

"Come to the house," John invited his guest. "My brother, Buck, here said he has seen you. Did you get your posse?"

Packer made a disappointed face. "No, I did not, Mr. Cannon."

Buck, who had asked to be relieved from his look-out duty, followed them to the veranda. Victoria brought refreshments, then sat down next to her husband on the porch bench. Blue and Sam each leaned against a porch post to listen to what the lawman had to say. Buck leaned against the other side of a post and looked over the ranch towards the mountains.

"El Lobo has been heading just about wherever he wanted to, all through the Arizona territory in the last five months," Packer began quietly. "He's left a lot of dead, left a lot of waste. You probably never heard of it. One is called Beecher's Creek, Zimmerman, Hobart, Miles. I say those names, and they're just names to you. They were whole families, whole live families. He didn't have to kill them but he did, just because there wasn't anybody there strong enough to say no to him."

"Mr. Packer, round-up starts tomorrow," Buck spoke up, his voice tight. He still did not turn to the veranda. "We gonna ride at sun-up. John needs every man."

"Buck." John got up from the bench and went to his brother. "Buck, I know what your concern is. I understand. We've said to each other that we've got to have the law here. We've said we can't always arm and keep watch. Someone bigger, someone faster is sure to come along. This country will not be worthwhile until the law comes. We've said that, too. But the law is here. Are we gonna turn him away?"

Buck weighed a pebble in his hand. "Big John, you got more problems than round-up. You know as well as I do where the bandidos are heading. Mexico. That's Montoya land."

"I know whose land it is," Big John said sharply. Buck did not look at him. He continued to play with his pebble, his gaze wandering restlessly over the ranch.

Big John turned back to his guest. "Marshal, I will not order my men to go. If they go, they'll go as volunteers."

"I'd like to talk to those men," Packer told him.

"Of course," the rancher nodded. "You start with Sam, right here."

"How about?" The marshal looked squarely at the foreman. "You ride with me in the posse?"

"I have heard about El Lobo," Sam replied. "He is a mighty bad hombre. He should be hunted down. Yes, sure, I'll go if it's all right, Mr. Cannon."

Big John nodded permission. "Sam," he said, "take the marshal down to the corral to talk with the men."

The lawman turned to Victoria.

"Excuse me, ma'am," Packer asked politely before he left with the foreman. Blue ran after them. Buck threw an accusing glance at his brother. He threw the pebble with all his strength on the sandy ground so that it jumped a few times. Then he turned around and strode away as well. Big John watched him go. He knew why Buck was so angry, but he could not for his brother's sake stick his head in the sand and hope that someone else would solve this problem.

"John?" The rancher turned to his wife who looked at him worriedly. "Where do you think they will find El Lobo?" she asked.

"I think they'll find him on your father's land," the rancher answered seriously.

"But if the men from High Chaparral go to Rancho Montoya to hunt the bandido, your agreement with my father will be broken, will it not?" Victoria replied calmly.

John nodded. "Yes, it will. But it doesn't seem I have any choice. We've got to stand behind Packer. We've got to stand behind the law."

"Señor Packer's law is not the law of Mexico," his wife pointed out.

"But El Lobo comes into our country, breaks our laws, even God's laws. If we let him go on committing his crimes, this country will fall to pieces," John countered.

"You accepted the condition of my father. You made an alliance with him, which was sealed by our marriage," Victoria reminded her husband.

"When I made the agreement with Don Sebastian, I made it in good faith," Big John replied stonily.

"If you break it, what about me?" Victoria asked with a frown.

"You're still my wife," John replied more softly.

"I'm your wife, John," Victoria told him matter-of-factly, giving him a curt nod. "But I'm also my father's daughter."

Big John's face became expressionless.

"What if you have to choose between us?" he demanded, intently watching the mountains in the background.

"I'm your wife for always," Victoria said firmly. "But I do not want to see the husband I love at war witht the father I also love." She turned and ran into the house. Her husband watched her go, his expression sad but determined.

Mano sat up in the hammock from which he had been covertly listening. He thought for a moment, then nodded decisively and made his own preparations.

Buck spotted his brother sitting on the porch and came to him. John looked at him questioningly.

"He's got hisself a posse. All the men want to go," Buck told him.

Big John nodded. "I thought they would."

"I told him he can have seven, no more. Better change your mind. If our men are caught down in Montoya country, you'll lose High Chaparral. You'll lose everything."

"I will not change my mind," Big John replied sharply and left the porch. Buck stared after his brother, worriedly rubbing his face.

John went to the paddock where Blue stood with his saddled horse. "Mr. Packer, I'm going with you," he heard Blue say.

"I'm sorry, son," the marshal answered him quietly.

"But I can ride, and I can use a gun," Blue insisted.

Packer nodded. "Maybe you can. But this needs men who are a little bit older."

"Pa, you tell him," the youngest Cannon demanded.

"I tell you you can't go," Big John said firmly. "Someone has to stay here and look after the ranch. You'll stay here with me. Now, that's final, boy."

Blue made a disappointed face and took his horse back to the stable.

"Thank you, Mr. Cannon." The marshal shook John's hand, then mounted his own horse. He gave the ranch hands a once-over in an attempt to memorise their names. The one in the dark blue shirt was Joe. His brother Sam was wearing the light brown suede stuff. He was the foreman. Reno also wore light brown suede clothes, but he was leaner and had fringes on his shirt. Ira wore a beige cotton shirt. Pedro was the scrawny Mexican with the dark vest. The fortyish one with the round face was Jake. He was wearing a dark vest, too. And then there was the man in the white shirt and beige pants whose name had escaped him so far.

Packer gave the signal to depart. The ranch hands followed him through the gate. Buck had also mounted up and made to ride out.

"Buck", Big John held his brother back. "Where are you going?"

Buck stopped in front of John, innocently shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe I'm going into town," he ventured.

His brother smiled up at him. "I don't think you're going into town. I think you're going with them."

"Maybe I am, maybe I ain't," Buck said gruffly. He spurred Rebel on and rode away without a backward glance.

"Another one," the rancher muttered when he saw Mano on horseback. "You! Where are you going?" he called to his brother-in-law.

Manolito smiled at him. "Oh, I'm just going to follow them. There might be some excitement. I do not want to miss it."

"Aha," Big John said knowingly. "Now, why the big grin?" he demanded.

Mano leaned down. "Mr. Cannon, I do not know if you are a fool. But if you are a fool, you are a magnificent fool. Vamonos!" He spurred Mackadoo on and followed his best friend.

Buck and Mano soon caught up with the posse. Packer called a halt. "Did you change your mind?" he asked when Buck rode up to him.

"I decided to ride with you. Any objections?" Buck told him sullenly.

"I don't know yet," the marshal answered. He pointed to Mano. "What about him?"

"Ask him." Buck spurred his horse on again, and the High Chaparral crew followed him. Packer did likewise after a moment's hesitation.

The rest of the day passed quietly. The posse rode across the High Chaparral land to the Mexican border. Shortly before dusk Manolito pointed to the left. "The brush there is very thick. Would make good cover," he said, thinking of a possible camp site.

"Aye, "Joe agreed.

"Buck, we're going on ahead, see what we find," Reno offered. Buck nodded. Reno waved to Jake, and the two rode off.

Mano leaned towards his brother-in-law. "We're getting closer to the border, Buck," he said in a singsong voice, smiling.

"I know it, amigo, I know it," Buck sighed, opening his canteen.

"We're getting closer to Montoya land, Buck," Mano went on.

His brother-in-law nodded and took a sip from the bottle. "I know that, too, amigo."

Mano lifted his hand with a shrug. "Oh, I just thought I'd remind you." He took the canteen Buck handed him and drank as well.

"Who is this Montoya you keep talking about?" the marshal wanted to know.

Mano sat up straight in his saddle. "Very big and important," he replied expansively and handed the canteen back.

Buck passed it on to Packer. "He owns a sizeable piece of Mexico right up the trail a ways," he said, pointing ahead.

"If he's so big and important, why does he hide out bandidos like Lobo?" Packer asked before taking a sip from the bottle as well.

"Well, the bandidos don't practice their interests south of the border," Buck said, taking back his canteen. "They don't bother him, he don't bother them."

Packer nodded in understanding. "Ah, that's really friendly."

"It works," Mano answered with a shrug.

"Mr. Buck Cannon, why do you and your brother put up with a neighbour like that?" the marshal wanted to know.

"My brother's wife is the daughter of Don Sebastian Montoya," Buck began to explain with relish. He pointed with his canteen to Mano. "And this fine young caballero is Don Sebastian's son." He quickly took a sip from the bottle to hide his amusement.

"Your servant, marshal," Manolito laughed openly.

"What is he doing with us?" the lawman asked, feeling like the proverbial canary that has been caught by the cat.

"Mano?" Buck asked lightly. "He lives with us, he rides with us."

"Well, I haven't got a posse," Packer spat.

"Yeah, Mr. Lawman, you have," Buck replied firmly.

"Not one to catch El Lobo."

"Big John told us to help you, and we gonna do everything we can," Buck countered angrily.

"All right." Packer decided to accept that statement at face value for the moment, then pointed his finger at Mano. "But you I don't trust. You turn your horse around and get out of here!"

"Hold on just a minute!" Buck exclaimed indignantly.

"Buck, it's all right, hombre." Mano, grinning like the Cheshire cat, put a hand on his best friend's arm. "I was going to leave anyway. I have better things to do."

"Like what?" his brother-in-law asked with a frown.

In answer, Manolito laughed. "Adios!"

"Mano," Buck worriedly called after him.

At this moment, Reno demanded his attention. "Buck?"

The younger Cannon brother jerked his head in Reno's direction. "Yo," he snapped.

"I found some water down the trail. How about camping there tonight?" Reno asked quietly.

"We camp when and where I say," Packer spoke up.

Buck took a deep breath. "These men ain't your flunkeys," he let fly, his face tight with anger. "They're Cannon ranch hands. And they take their orders from me. Boys, we camp down the trail where Reno found the water - whether you like it or not, Mr. Marshal."

Buck rode to the camp site in a huff. He was sure that Mano was up to something. But he was also pretty sure that Manolito had intended to spend the night with them so that he could have started his scheme well-rested in the morning.

The High Chaparral crew rode past Packer, completely ignoring the lawman. They all knew Buck and Mano were best pals and that one would give his life for the other. Buck had already proved that when he had saved Mano, Victoria and Don Sebastian from his ex-captain Jake Lanier, who a few months ago had tried to take over Rancho Montoya. The marshal stared after Manolito and wondered if it had been a mistake to send him away. After all, an enemy he could keep an eye on was not nearly as bad as one who was on the loose. Manolito, however, saw no cause for alarm. He spent the night in a line cabin on his father's land.

"Take a look at that line of hills yonder," Buck told the marshal the next morning after breakfast. "This is Mexico."

Packer looked at the landscape in front of them. "Pretty," he replied with as much interest as he could muster.

"Yeah," Buck agreed. "Once we cross between those twin peaks there, we're on Montoya land."

"It doesn't make any difference to me, Cannon," the marshal said.

Buck shook his head. "Well, it do make a difference. It makes a lot of difference. Once we cross the mountains, we ain't a posse. To anybody we meet we are High Chaparral ranch hands looking for strays," he said firmly.

"Cannon, I'm a United States territorial marshal looking for an outlaw. I ain't about to be anything else," Packer replied stubbornly.

"Well now, mister, I'm going to tell you something," Buck sighed, adjusting his hat. His voice became sharper. "So you listen, and listen good. You better be a High Chaparral ranch hand. 'Cause if you ain't and we run into Montoya's men, that's it. I'll tell them we was chasing you, trying to fence you in, trying to keep you from busting the pact between Don Sebastian and my brother. So I'm telling you, Mr. Marshal, to anybody we meet, you're a ranch hand like the rest of us. Try be a marshal, you let on what we are up to, you're dead. 'Cause if the Montoyas don't kill you, I'll have to put a bullet in you myself," Buck said, sounding as deadly serious as he felt. He was convinced that it could only harm Mano if Lobo got wind that they were after him. And when he was forced to choose between Mano's life and that of Packer, the marshal did not stand a chance. Buck stared out over the flatlands, waiting for Packer to see reason.

Packer grabbed the neck cord of Buck's hat and pulled it slowly towards him. Buck followed the man's hand with his eyes and finally looked at him. "You might just have to do that," the lawman said quietly.

"You do understand what I'm saying, don't you?" Buck asked him.

"If you've finished, why don't we go," Packer replied impatiently.

"All right." Buck threw the High Chaparral foreman a quick glance. "Sam!"

Sam nodded. He would keep a very close eye on Packer.

Mano rode past a ledge. The guard atop he had seen miles away. "Alto." It did not come at a surprise at all when the man pointed his gun at him.

Manolito reined in his horse. Finally he heard the footsteps of a second guard. "How long does it take for you to recognise a friend, hombre?" he asked quietly.

The man stopped and stared. "Manolito?" he exclaimed in surprise.

"Hey, Teo," Mano said, pleased.

Teo came up to Manolito and shook his hand. "Cómo estás, hombre? Eh, you ride very early in the morning."

"Sí." Mano cleared his throat, pointing pleadingly over his shoulder at the guard on the rock.

"Oye, está bien," Teo called up to the man.

"A little caution is good. The man lives longer, right, Teo?" Mano commented with a grin. "How is El Lobo?" he wanted to know.

Teo shrugged laconically. "Well, you know, he is El Lobo."

"Ah, he bites," Mano laughed.

"Sí. He is unpredictable. You better come with me. Let me accompany you." Teo took Mano's horse by the reins. Mano waved to the man on the ledge before he was guided towards the camp site.

"Is El Lobo here?" Teo asked yet another guard at the river.

"Sí, hombre," nodded the man.

Lobo was sitting on a blanket on the other side of the river, having a meal. María was handing him the plate. "Thanks," Mano heard him say.

Teo guided Mano through the river. The visitor had pulled his sombrero down low, shadowing his face. Lobo looked at him suspiciously. On the shore Mano stopped and pushed his hat back. Then he laughingly slid from his horse and walked towards the gang leader.

"Manolito." Lobo embraced him effusively. "Amigo."

"Lobo. Good to see you, hombre," Mano grinned at the man.

"Welcome. Welcome to my camp."

"Hey, muchachos." Mano turned to Lobo's men and raised a hand in greeting.

"María, get me another plate," El Lobo ordered. "Come, sit down," he added, turning back to his guest.

"Gracias," Manolito thanked him and sat down on the blanket with El Lobo.

"Let's talk. It has been such a long time," the bandit began.

Mano smilingly patted Lobo on the shoulder. "A very long time, hombre."

"Make yourself at home." Lobo handed him his own plate. "Take mine."

"Hombre, no, this is yours," Mano declined modestly.

"Mi casa, tu casa," El Lobo invited his guest again.

María brought Lobo another plate, and Mano finally accepted. "Thanks, old crook," he smiled.

"Montoya beef, eh?" Mano asked after the second bite, his face growing serious.

Lobo looked at him sheepishly. "It was such a little steer, amigo," he said in a small voice.

Mano suddenly laughed. "It's good, hombre."

Lobo burst into relieved laughter, then began to eat as well.

"Lobo," Mano said after a while.

"Yeah?"

"La chiquita, María." Mano eyed the girl appreciatively.

"Te gusta?" the gang leader asked, managing to sound casual.

Mano nodded. "Yeah, un poquito."

"Oye, María, ven," Lobo ordered harshly. He could not refuse the request since he had invited Mano. But he strongly resented that Manolito had made that demand.

Mano smiled. He just had to tease the man.

After lunch the posse prepared to break camp. Reno did guard duty on top of an overhang while Pedro saddled the horses and Ira cleaned the dishes.

Joe came back from scouting. "Hey, Buck."

Buck looked up."Yeah?" He was leaning on a rock wall, holding a council of war with Jake.

"I found the best tracks yet," Joe said. "The horse with a busted shoe. He met with four, maybe five new-shod horses. He took off yonder towards the mountains. And the way I figure it, Buck, he was here late yesterday afternoon."

"Well, Jake," Buck grinned, briefly lifting the other's hat. "That's the pony with the busted shoe all right."

Jake grunted. "That's him, boss, man," he agreed.

"Congratulations, Joe," Buck smiled at the scout.

"Buck", Reno suddenly shouted from his look-out. "Sam's coming in fast."

The foreman made a running dismount. "We get some riders coming in. It looks like Montoya's men," he announced hastily.

"How many?" Buck wanted to know.

"Four."

"Four," Buck repeated thoughtfully. He turned to the marshal. Joe had dismounted and had stealthily taken up position behind the man. Buck opened Packer's vest. "Get rid of it," he ordered, nodding to the badge.

"Cannon, I am a United States territorial marshal…" Packer snapped his mouth shut. Sam and Joe had pointed their guns at him.

"We ain't got time to argue," Buck said firmly. "Pack that badge, Mr. Marshal." The lawman did not move. "Sam!" Buck ordered impatiently.

Sam came over, intending to remove the badge by force. Packer pushed the foreman's hand aside. "Keep your hands to yourself, Sam," he snapped.

Buck glanced to his right. He crossed his arms over his chest in frustration when he saw the riders approach.

"All right, Cannon," Packer acquiesced sullenly. "You just stepped over the line. That about does it." He took off his badge and put it in the breast pocket of his shirt.

"Look what. You speak out of turn, Sam and the boys will do it," Buck threatened. He turned to the foreman. "Sam, make it look good." He went to meet the riders.

"Pedro, Jake!" The foreman signalled them to hide. The two ranch hands disappeared behind the rock wall and listened intently, their guns drawn and at the ready.

"Sit down, marshal," Sam commanded. Packer angrily threw his gun belt to the ground and sat down with the others at the fire.

"You still got some coffee, Ira?" Joe asked.

"Yes." Ira filled three cups and passed them around.

"Señor Chavez, hello, amigo." Buck had intercepted the riders just before the camp. "It's good to see you. I was hoping I would run into you so I could say hello and bring you the best regards from my brother to Señor Montoya," he smiled.

"What are you doing on Montoya land?" Don Sebastian's foreman asked suspiciously.

"Well, we had bad news," Buck explained. "Twenty steers turned up missing. We don't know whether they are strays or whether the Apache took them. By the way, you haven't seen any High Chaparral stock in the past couple days, have ya?"

Chavez shook his head. "No, señor. This is a long way from your ranch."

"I know it is," Buck agreed. "But if them Apaches took them, you know, they can take the cattle a hundred miles and more. But of course, I don't want to keep you, too, gentlemen. We just gonna scout them hills to get one last look, and then we gonna head for home. By the way, if you see them High Chaparral stock, I'd be grateful if you let us know."

"Respects from Don Sebastian Montoya to Señor Cannon," Chavez answered stonily. "Adios, señor."

"Adios, Chavez," Buck smiled.

Don Sebastian's vaqueros turned their horses to ride away.

"Eh, señor?" Packer asked Chavez. "Si usted-" The marshal saw the warning in the eyes of the High Chaparral crew. He backed off. "No. No he hablado nada, señor."

Chavez looked at Packer, then shrugged and turned back to Buck. "Hasta luego."

Buck waved to the Montoya vaqueros until they had disappeared over the next hill, then angrily turned to Packer. "You speak Spanish, marshal?" Buck took up position beside the lawman. "Be glad you didn't have any more to say." He rubbed his cheek and stared into the fire, trying to get his anger under control. If anything should happen to Mano because the marshal could not keep his mouth shut, then-

Packer rose. "Cannon, you ever pull a gun on me again, you better use it." He stormed off to his horse.

"Loud-mouth," Sam growled.

Buck held him back. "Sam, I think it would be a good idea if we pack and get out of here."

Sam nodded. "Yeah, all right, Bucko. I'll do it."

Mano sat on the blanket and had María feed him slices of beef. He took a sip from his wine. "It's good," he smiled, kissing the girl.

Impatient and probably a little jealous, Lobo interrupted them. "Manolito! Now that your belly is full, you feel good, eh?" he asked sullenly.

Mano looked up. "I feel very good," he nodded with a smile.

"María, vamos!" the gang leader ordered.

The girl left immediately. Teo stood at some distance under a tree and kept watch. As she passed him, he snatched her arm. "Hey, María, no me gusta," he began.

With a quick glance at Lobo María snatched her arm back. "Leave me in peace," she snapped at Teo.

Lobo sat down beside Manolito. "Come on, let's have some more of this good wine."

"Yes," Mano agreed, topping up their glasses. "Lobo," he said gravely, "I have heard talk about you. Bad talk."

"Bad talk? What bad talk?" the gang leader asked, still miffed.

"Those gringos, hombre. You burn their houses, shoot their cattle." Mano jabbed Lobo in the side with his elbow. "Oh, you know," he grinned.

"Sí," Lobo laughed at last, patting his guest on the shoulder. "Very soon I become more feared than Cochise."

"You know, the Indians are not devils without reason, hombre," Mano countered.

"Eh, you are the greatest Lobo of all. Manolito, el Lobo Grande." The bandit raised his glass.

"Gracias." Mano clinked glasses with him.

"You see, I do not put myself before you," Lobo continued. "That is because your father and I were muchachos together. It is an honour to have you come and visit my camp." He put his hand on his guest's shoulder.

"Gracias, amigo, gracias," Manolito thanked him, then added seriously: "Lobo, I-" He hesitated, throwing a cautious glance in Teo's direction. "I came for a reason."

Mano got up and started walking. Surprised, Lobo hesitantly went with him.

While the posse followed the tracks Joe had found, Mano explained the reason for his visit on the other side of the river. "Lobo, I came to tell you it is not good for you to stay here. There is a posse coming for you, hombre." Manolito squatted down, picked up a wooden stick and idly began to draw lines in the sand.

Lobo laughed. "You make a joke with El Lobo, eh?"

Mano looked up. "It's no joke," he said seriously.

"Nonsense," the bandido objected, shaking his head. "You know, Don Sebastian Montoya would never allow it to happen. This river is my home. Your father, he would never let a posse come for El Lobo."

Mano continued his drawing. "My father knows nothing about it, hombre," he said calmly. "This posse is led by some marshal from Prescott. Riding with him are vaqueros from Rancho Cannon."

Stunned, Lobo knelt beside Mano. "I never harmed the Rancho Cannon. I've given my word to your father," he exclaimed.

"I know, I know," Mano nodded quietly. "See, this marshal told Mr. Cannon things that you have done in the north. Mr. Cannon was very unhappy, hombre. You should not have done those bad things to the gringos, hombre." He winked at the gang leader.

"Manolito, the Cannon men are your friends, no?" Lobo asked thoughtfully.

"Yes." Manolito looked the bandido seriously in the eyes.

"And you say you are my friend, too," Lobo continued. "What does one who rides both sides of the road do when the road divides?"

"What?" Mano asked, sounding shocked. "Lobo, I do not ride with them, do I? I have come to warn you," he said slowly.

"Sí, es la verdad," Lobo mused, perplexed. He suddenly thumped Mano on the back. "Hey, then we will wait for the posse, eh? You will fight with us, eh?" he grinned.

"I would hate to see those men die," Mano answered. "Lobo, you don't have to fight. Listen, you and your bandidos need to rest, not to fight. Do you remember the old Tortuga mine? Why don't you move there? That's a great place to hide. They will never find you, hombre," Mano laughed. " You know what you can do? Let you track them here. You escape," he made the gesture of a bird that flies away, "and they find nothing."

"You think they are how many men?" Lobo wanted to know.

"Thirty," Mano replied eagerly. "Maybe forty."

Lobo stood up. "Teo," he shouted over the river and waited impatiently for the man to approach. "Mano tells me there is a posse coming for us here. You go down the canyon and find out how many men. Go all the way down to the flatland and make sure. Then come back here. Andale!"

"Muy bien," Teo said and rode out.

Mano remained squatting in the sand next to his drawing, worriedly chewing on his stick. He was fully aware of what he had just got his friends into. He could only hope they were smart enough to eliminate the danger in time. However, at least one would die in the process. Mano hoped it would be Teo. Still, this thought made him feel guilty as well because he quite liked Teo. The man had not become a bandido because he wanted to fight and rob and kill, but because there had not been any other way for him to make a living. He had been unable to find decent work and had not wanted to be pressed into service. Manolito remembered the day Teo had come to them, all skin and bones, having been chased by the rurales for thee weeks. Teo had virtually begged El Lobo to take him in. Lobo had fed and clothed Teo, then had sworn him in. Mano remembered Teo's face when he had realised he had gone out of the frying pan right into the fire. But when Teo realised he got left alone so long as he did his tasks, he had stayed with Lobo out of gratitude.

"You are my guest, Manolito," Lobo pulled him from his thoughts. "You can rest here until Teo is back."

"All right," Mano said and stood, breaking the stick in half. "But you know, Lobo, you did not always trust me so little." He resignedly shrugged his shoulders with a sad smile and went back to the other side of the camp. Lobo looked after him, a half embarrassed, half thoughtful expression on his face.

In the early afternoon Buck called a halt. "Sam," he turned to the foreman. "Sam, you mind if you stand watch up there?" he asked.

"Not at all." Sam rode to the rocky overhang.

"Now, boys, we're just gonna give the horses a rest," Buck said, mostly for the benefit of the marshal, to avoid any potential objections. "I think we better chow down now."

Up on the hill Sam tied his horse to a bush. He was just starting to look around when he heard a baritone voice behind him.

"Don't move, señor," Teo ordered. "This trigger is very quick. Drop your gun belt."

Sam slowly turned around and unbuckled. "Who are you, señor?" he asked casually.

"It is I who holds the gun, señor," Teo continued. "I need not tell you. But you, you will have to tell me, or I will kill you."

"My name is Sam. Sam Butler," the foreman replied calmly.

"What are you doing on Don Sebastian Montoya's land?"

Sam took a step closer. "I, uh-"

"Alto!" Teo ordered immediately.

Sam raised his hands again. "I really don't think I have to tell you anything."

"Ha?" Teo asked in confusion.

"I didn't come alone," the foreman said. He smilingly looked over Teo's shoulder.

The bandit turned around. Sam grabbed the reins and made the horse rear up. The rider fell to the ground, losing his gun in the process. Teo was quickly back on his feet and drew his knife. His horse ran away. Teo lunged, his knife held like a spear. Sam grabbed Teo's hand, twisted it, and, angling the hand back towards the body, pushed the knife home. Sam stood for a moment, drawing in a deep breath, then rushed back to the camp to report the incident.

Buck and the marshal accompanied him to the bandido. While Buck kept a close eye on their surroundings, the marshal frisked the dead hombre. "That's one of Lobo's men all right," he finally announced.

"Yeah, I figured he was," the foreman replied sullenly.

"If you had left him just a little bit alive, he could have told us where he was coming from," Packer said.

"If he was alive right now, I'd be dead," Sam replied wryly. "I figure you got to make the best of a bad choice."

"You sure that's one of El Lobo's men?" Buck asked.

"Sure," Packer nodded. He turned to Sam. "He coming up on foot?"

The foreman shook his head. "No, his horse took off down the canyon."

"You know where he's goin', don't you?" the marshal growled.

"Straight to El Lobo's camp," Buck said cheerfully. "Leaves us a trail to follow."

"And it will tell El Lobo we're coming," Packer argued.

"So it will, Mr. Marshal. Let's find out." Buck turned on his heel and walked back to the camp to get ready for departure.

When the guard brought Teo's riderless horse, Lobo got worried. He had lost his most trusted man and now also lost his nerve. "Compadres," he called to his men, "we will move to the Tortuga mine. A posse is coming here for us. Hey, Rico," he beckoned to one of his men.

Rico stepped towards his boss. "Ay, patrón."

"You take someone, go down the canyon. When you see the posse, shoot at them. Let them see you come up the canyon. Vamos!"

"Sí." Rico waved to a young man, "Pablo, andale! Pronto!" and set out with him.

"María, tell the women to go home," Lobo ordered.

"Mujeres, afuerase!" María passed on the command. Turning back to Lobo, she added: "Adios y buena suerte."

The bandits had mounted their horses and were waiting for further instructions. "Compadres, make tracks in all directions. We will meet at the mine," Lobo told them. He turned to Mano with a broad smile and spread his arms. "Amigo, you will ride in the lead with me."

"Ah no, gracias, compadre," Mano objected, looking suddenly sad. "I think it is a good time for me to see my father. It has been a long time, and he is a lonely man."

"It has been a long time for me, too," Lobo countered. "When this is all over, we will visit your father together. Right now, you are too valuable for me."

Mano, seeing that he had no choice, nodded and went to his horse.

Buck had sent Reno and Joe scouting ahead. The two came back with faces as long as a fiddle. "We lost the trail, Buck," Reno said and hung his head.

"Yeah. We lost it in the tracks of half a dozen other horses, all shod," Joe explained.

"But all them tracks lead into that canyon?" Buck asked thoughtfully.

Joe nodded. "Yep, that they do."

"The trail's been hewn," Reno added.

"All shod, aren't they, Joe?" Buck mused. He turned to the others. "Well, I guess we better get down there," he decided.

In the canyon, there were some creeks which united to form a single river in the spring when the snow melted. At this season, however, they carried but little water. As they crossed the first creek, shots were fired at them. Jake, who rode in the middle, fell into the water. The others pushed past him and hastened to reach the shore.

The marshal, having already reached the bushes on the opposite side, covered them. "Pedro, Reno, come!" he called out to the rear guard.

Sam and Ira ran back to pull Jake out. Ira knelt down, putting his head on Jake's chest. Buck jumped off his horse and also ran back to the water. "Jake?" he asked.

"He is dead, Buck," Sam said seriously.

"Poor Jake," Buck replied sadly. "You take care of him, Sam," he decided and went back to Rebel.

Reno came to Buck. "It's just one. Pedro and I ran after him. But I don't think we got a chance to catch him. How is Jake?" he asked anxiously.

Buck took off his hat and lowered his eyes. "Jake is dead, Reno," he answered softly.

Reno stared towards the water, struggling to keep his composure. Jake had been a good friend ever since he had come to work at the High Chaparral. Moreover, he had been from Colorado, too.

Buck pulled himself together after a moment. He turned to Packer. "Now, Mr. Marshal, about continuing. I don't think we use them shod horses. They make too much noise."

"Agreed," Packer nodded. "Cannon, I'm sorry about Jake," he added quietly.

Buck said nothing. He just turned around to follow Joe and Pedro. Reno stood there for a while longer.

At the next river bed they all met up. Joe and Pedro had been held up by the sniper. The others also had to take cover. Suddenly Pedro frantically patted down his chest. "Pedro, you all right?" Ira asked worriedly. Pedro put his finger through two holes in his shirt. The bullet had damaged his shirt but had not grazed him. He whistled quietly through his teeth.

They tried to find out where the sniper was holed up. One by one they moved to determine the man's position. After the fourth shot, they had the direction. At the fifth shot, they saw a cloud of smoke rise up from the bushes on the opposite shore. At the sixth shot, Packer saw the man. The marshal put his arm on a rock to steady himself, took careful aim, and fired. The sniper hit the water with a groan and moved no more. Buck was speechless with amazement. Packer seemed to have his qualities, after all.

They waited in their hiding places for another attacker to reveal himself. When everything stayed quiet, Buck finally gave the signal to move on. After a few minutes they reached Lobo's abandoned camp. The men fanned out. Buck and the marshal took up position on the sandy bridge, the one Mano had used to get from one part of the camp to the other.

Sam ran straight into Mano's drawing. He squatted down in the sand to examine it. "Hey, Buck, I think I found something," he called after a moment. Buck and the marshal approached. Sam pointed down to the sandy ground. "What do you make of that?"

Buck squatted beside Sam. "That's a turtle, init?" he asked cheerfully.

"Yeah," the foreman agreed.

"Pretty," Buck commented with a smile.

"All right, I give up. What's this supposed to mean?" the marshal growled sullenly.

Buck looked up at him. "First of all, it means our friend Mano Montoya was here."

"The kid I threw out?" Packer asked suspiciously.

"That's right," Buck confirmed. "Never knowed another fellow who could draw on the ground pictures like Manolito. He'd sit around, pick up a stick and draw. Right, Sam?"

"You can always tell his," the foreman nodded.

"Then I was right," Packer said. "He has joined the bandidos to fight against us."

Sam stood. "There you have a good many years to convince me of that. And that'd be well over a hundred."

"You said he draw this, didn't you?" the marshal asked in confusion. Sam nodded.

Buck rose, too. "Yeah, he draw them. He's pretty much of a dirty scoundrel most of the time," he explained, then turned to the foreman. "Sam, how do you say turtle in Mexican?"

Sam referred the question to Pedro, who had noticed the crowd and had joined them. "Pedro, cómo se dice en español turtle?"

"Tortuga."

"Tortuga," Sam repeated, looking expectantly at Buck.

"There is an old mine named Tortuga east of here," Buck said, crossing his arms over his chest. "The bandidos used to hide out there. And I got a hunch that our bandidos have moved there, too."

"And Montoya left us a message?" Packer asked in disbelief.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Marshal," Buck nodded vigorously.

"What kind of message?" the lawman asked suspiciously.

Buck put his hand on his revolver, his eyes burning with fury. "And just what do you mean by that, sir?" he asked slowly. Buck now had to make it unmistakably clear that Mano was not a traitor so that his brother-in-law would not be shot "accidentally" by Packer when they tackled the bandits. Buck would even go so far as to duel with the lawman to protect his friend.

Packer eyed Buck thoughtfully. He was at loggerheads with the man yet again. And after all what he had seen so far, the marshal had to admit that he might be wrong about Montoya. "All right, let's find out," he griped. "Let's go ahead." He turned and walked to his horse.

"Sam, have the boys mount up," Buck ordered. "We're going to the Tortuga mine."

Sam came back from scouting. "They're there all right, over the little hill," he explained, sounding a bit surprised. "There is one sentry on this side. We have to get rid of him."

"I'll do that," Packer spoke up.

"By yourself?" Buck asked provocatively.

Packer did not deign to answer. Instead, he simply got going.

"There is only one way to get out, that's down the canyon," Sam mused. "I figure two men can guard that. I'll take Reno and go down there."

Buck put his hand on the foreman's shoulder. "Good thinking, Sam."

The marshal crept towards the guard who sat cross-legged on the rock, watching the valley. Buck suspected that the man was asleep. In any case, the guard heard Packer far too late. He did not even find the time to cry out a warning when the marshal struck, much less to defend himself. He simply fell down the rock, unconscious. The posse ducked behind their hill and waited to see if anyone had noticed the attack. When all remained quiet, the High Chaparral crew crept up to Packer.

"Now, marshal, sure don't look like they're expectin' company," Buck whispered.

Packer saw Sam and Reno pass them. "Where are they going?"

"Down below, to block the exit," Buck explained.

"Good," Packer agreed. "When they gotta figure there is no way out of this canyon. If we can work our way down that ridge without being seen, this way we can do them a lot of hurt before they can get waked up." He turned to Buck. "Any objections?"

Buck smiled. "I don't know yet."

Mano sat on a rock in the middle of the valley. He used the polished handle of his pistola as a mirror and shaved. He took his time. Shaving was not his main objective. He kept an eye on the rocks on which the posse had to appear. Incidentally, he was sitting so that he was blocking Lobo's view. The gang leader was sleeping behind him at the fire. Mano saw the guard fall down and knew it was time to finish his shave. He had just put away his knife when the first shots were fired. Then followed a hail of bullets that left the bandits dumbfounded. Mano took cover beside El Lobo.

"Muchachos, get out of this," the gang leader hollered. He ran after his men towards the horses.

Mano stayed where he was, glad that Lobo did not use him as a human shield.

One of the bandits ran to Manolito and threw himself down beside him. "Qué pasa?" he asked in confusion, having been rudely torn from his nap by the attack.

"Vaya, hombre!" Mano shouted, urgently pointing to the horses.

"Cover me," the man asked and ran. Mano tripped him up. The bandido fell screaming into the fire. When he got up again, he was hit by a bullet.

Down by the horses the rest of the bandits fared no better. One by one Sam and Reno shot them out of their saddles.

While the posse systematically cleaned up among the bandits, El Lobo searched for a hiding place. He thought it best to stay in the valley for the time being. But when the barrage ended, he still had not found a suitable place. Suddenly he saw Buck coming towards him and threw himself behind the nearest rock.

"Manolito," Buck called cheerfully, searching the area. The valley was not very big. Sooner or later his brother-in-law had to hear him. Buck saw a man lying on the ground and went to him. He was relieved to see that the dead man was a bandit. Buck took the man's gun and looked around once more. "Mano," he called again, urgently this time. He moved on, walking straight to Lobo's hiding place.

Buck became restless when he could not find his friend. Had his brother-in-law been caught in the crossfire? "Mano," he called anxiously, forgetting all caution. A pebble hit the ledge in front of him. Buck instantly dropped to the ground. He looked in the direction from which the warning had come. He recognised the marshal who pointed to an upright slab in front of Buck, signalling that he would close in on the rock from behind.

Buck nodded. He put the second revolver in his holster, exchanging the dead man's gun for his own, but kept a sharp eye on the goings-on in front of him. Suddenly he heard a noise behind him. Buck rolled onto his back, his own sixshooter at the ready. The other froze.

"Mano," Buck whispered in relief. "Come here," he motioned to his friend.

Mano noticed that Buck had taken his finger off the trigger and came to him. "Qué pasa?" he grinned, lying down beside his friend.

"Where have you been?" Buck asked, still whispering.

"It was getting a little warm. Took a walk, "Mano whispered back.

Buck smiled at his brother-in-law. "Good to see you. I got your message. You draw pretty pictures."

"Why did you-?" Mano angrily rose halfway from the cover.

"Hush, keep down." Buck pushed Mano's head back under cover. "I think there is someone behind that rock up there," he explained, pointing ahead.

"Maybe our friend, Lobo?" Mano guessed.

Buck made a vague gesture and shrugged his shoulders, then cocked his revolver.

Lobo in his hideout focussed on Buck and Mano. He tried to gather from the noises what was going on. Seconds after he had heard indistinctly Buck cock his revolver, he heard quite clearly a gun being readied behind him. He turned slowly, let his own gun fall, and raised his hands, laughing to hide his trepidation.

"What did I tell you? It's El Lobo," Manolito grinned at Buck.

"Yeah, Lobo, our 'friend'," Buck grinned back.

Blue, who was doing guard duty on the roof, saw them first. "Hey, Pa! Riders comin'," he shouted.

Big John stepped out of the house. He called for his wife when he saw that it was Buck and Mano. They had separated from the main group and were galloping through the gate.

"They're home," John smiled and hugged Victoria.

"Hey, Uncle Buck," Blue called to them from the roof.

Buck waved. Together with Mano he stopped in front of John. "We got him, John," he said with a broad smile on his face. "We got him."

"I see you did," his brother answered happily. "Where?"

"This side of the border. In the old Tortuga mine," Buck grinned, putting a hand on Mano's shoulder. "This one trick-talked Lobo into it."

"Thank you, Buck." Victoria came to him and kissed him on the cheek.

Big John shook his brother-in-law's hand. "I'm obliged to you, Mano."

"De nada, Señor Cannon," Manolito answered with a smile. John patted him gratefully on the back, then went to the main squad which had just arrived.

Victoria ran to her brother and hugged him. "Gracias, Manolito."

"For what?" Mano shrugged with a smile. "I did nothing."

"You did it for me."

Big John shook his foreman's hand. "Sam, thank you. Boys," he nodded to the rest of the crew, then turned to Packer. "Marshal, you get down and rest yourself a bit," he invited the lawman.

"Thank you, Mr. Cannon," Packer replied, "but I want to get my prisoner into town before it gets dark."

Big John shook hands with him, too. "Well done."

"Thank you. Matter of fact, I could not have done it without your brother right here," the marshal admitted. Buck looked at him in surprise.

"I hope that if I have any business down here, I can call him," Packer continued. "Any objections?" he asked.

Buck laughed. "I don't know yet."

"Adios," the marshal nodded to him.

Buck tipped his hat. "Adios."

Laughing, Mano went to Lobo.

"It is a bad thing you do, Manolito." The gang leader held out his manacled hands. "Maybe someday I see you again, eh?"

Mano inclined his head, his face serious. "Possibly."

"Let's go," Sam said impatiently. He, Joe, the marshal and El Lobo turned their horses and rode to Tucson. Mano watched them go. Buck and John came to him.

"We need men like him out here," Big John began.

"Yeah," Buck agreed. "That marshal is one tough hombre, John."

He had to be if he had managed to gain Buck's respect under such bad circumstances.

"He sure is," Big John voiced his thoughts. "Deputy," he added with a grin, then beat a hasty retreat.

"Ha? What?" Buck looked up in puzzlement.

Mano laughed. He blew on Buck's chest, polishing an imaginary badge. When his friend indignantly raised his fist, Manolito, still laughing, put a soothing hand on his best friend's shoulder, then retreated as well. Buck watched him go. After a moment he thoughtfully touched his imaginary badge and burst out laughing himself.

A huge thank you

to Ann who encouraged me to write down the episodes;

to Louise who provided the English dialogue transcript;

and to Jane who did the proofreading and asked the right questions.


End file.
